


Matchpoint

by bluegraywilde



Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2020-10-25 11:49:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20723723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluegraywilde/pseuds/bluegraywilde
Summary: A series of Omander vignettes from Ander's POV, taking place over the course of seasons 1-2





	1. Draw 0-0

Ander thought he was high. He wasn’t quite sure. It’s not like he had any idea of what it was supposed to feel like outside what the movies and tv told him.

And for all he knew, Christian’s dealer friend had sold him shit dope. It’s not like he’d know the difference. _I’m that hopeless sheltered kid who had to look up a YouTube tutorial on how to roll a joint. _The hazards of being the principal’s son.

But it was making him brave. Or horny. _Or both. And a bit reckless thrown in._

So he downloaded Grindr. _Again. _The first time had been out of curiosity. The second had been out of loneliness. And now he was motivated by lust, pure and simple. _One good fuck. Get it out of my system._

He removed his shirt, tossing it aside in his disheveled room. He took another hit from his blunt, raising his phone high to take a selfie of his chest. _Not flexing at all. _Once uploaded it joined a sea of headless torsos, most with abs, at least the ones worth looking at. _Just another type of six pack I can get behind._

He was just fitting in with the scene. And it was good to keep anonymity. It would be just his luck to see someone who knew him on there and out him. 

Not that he was necessarily languishing in the closet. His own personal angst about being gay was basically non-existent at this point. He suspected his parents and friends would basically be fine with it.

But it was the one thing that was his and his alone. He didn’t feel the need to share it. At the end of the day it was just one more lie to add to the pile. And unlike the others that protected his father’s ego, his friends’ reputations, or his mother’s image of him, this one was for him. Pure and simple. 

His entire life has been planned to exacting detail. There was the regular rhythm of the tennis season- daily practices, matches, and championships- paired with studies at Las Encinas, the kind of ridiculously cutthroat and prestigious private school that belonged in the world of _culebrones. Like most of my life._

As far as his father was concerned, his only redeeming quality was being a tennis player. At least good enough to justify a lot of time, money, and energy to be invested in his prospective career. His dad talked about the French Open the way other parents talked about getting into the University of Barcelona or the Autonomous University of Madrid or even an American Ivy League school.

As he scrolled, he couldn’t help but remember all those childhood warnings about meeting creeps online. And here he was broadcasting his location, age, and general sexual availability to everyone from the cute boy next door (_I wish) _to the actual creeps all those PSAs were about.

There was the telltale vibration of a new message.

** Nice profile. **

And based on the photo, lean and the right age (unless he’s lying), well he was intrigued.

** Likewise, what’s up?  
**

** I’m bored, want to meet up? **Grindr could be accused of many things but for better or worse, the people on it were refreshingly direct. _Unlike every other person I know. _

** Another photo?** The barest of due diligence. He wasn’t especially worried if he got catfished, he could take care of himself. Besides his gut usually could tell when something was up. And most importantly he had to know if this little late-night adventure was worth his while.

_ Are you a boy I could dream of? _


	2. Serve 0-15

_ Nothing says romance like a gritty post-industrial area you know from that one time you bought drugs. _Pretty to look at? _No._ The right kind of anonymous? _Yep. _The chances of running into another soul, and more importantly one he knew, were slim to none. The ambiance didn’t matter anyway, there wasn’t anything remotely like romance going down tonight. _If things go according to plan._

The actual contents of that plan were vague but the spirit was there. _As if I’d ever let a lack of experience stop me. _It was past time to rip off the band-aid on his list of unfulfilled firsts. Guzman had Lu. Polo and Carla had been attached at the hip since they were tweens. He was done sitting on the sidelines watching his peers screw around.

His would-be hookup turned around to reveal… Christian’s drug dealer friend. _Well so much for the anonymous part of the plan._ He had to concede it was his fault. _Always ask for the face pic. Rule one. _But he had been thinking with a different kind of head in the moment.

There was a brief deer-in-the-headlights moment as they each took in the measure of the other _in the flesh_. _And this time I know precisely what’s under those baggy clothes. He’s quite… fit. _

Ander turned it over in his head. _The distinct lack of strings is still in play. What’s another secret to add to the pile? _

Omar seemed to have other ideas, bolting right past him, so fast Ander could have sworn he felt the rush of the disturbed air. 

“Whoa wait.” Ander grabbed at his arm, not quite connecting, but Omar stopped anyway, just as suddenly as he had started.

He didn’t turn back to face him. It was probably easier for Omar not to be looking at him directly. “I don’t do this. Guys are not my thing.” _And yet you came all this way. It’s easier to ghost away behind a screen._

“Come on, you wanted to suck my dick.” It was a bold line, said with a sly grin. It was as likely to end things right then and there as to resuscitate them. 

But Omar chuckled besides himself. And Ander knew his serve had hit its mark. _Everyone likes a cocky bastard. _Omar’s eyes returned to a hungry glint even as Ander could see the gears wearing away in that shaved head of his, whether to fuck or flee. _And when they’re gay, especially that cocky part._

Omar took his hand, a simple touch that resounded through his body, frying Ander’s nerves. “This way.” His heart skipped with every step as they descended down the staircase, safe in the shadows.

They sat on the tattered abandoned couch that probably should be in a trash heap somewhere. Knees bumping as their thighs were pressed tight, jeans rubbing against jeans. Faces watched each other, mere inches apart.

Ander lunged in first, eager to start, but Omar recoiled, only to reverse and charge in. Ander instinctively jerked back. Push, then pull, like magnets that couldn’t quite decide if they were attracted or repulsed. But then finally, right at the borderline, contact. Lips meeting lips._ So this is what I’ve been missing._

After that first, the kisses came quick and hungry. And other things too. Omar swung himself atop Ander, hands exploring down his body. They reached his waistband, toying momentarily at the boundary, before taking the plunge. Ander was breathing heavy. 

Everything needed to freeze or slow down. Stop. _I can’t. I just… can’t. _

Ander shoved Omar off of him, decisively. None of the play or charge of their initial dance. Omar regained his balance and stood there a moment, confused with an underlay of hurt.

“Dude it was you who wanted it.”

“Just…” Ander couldn’t find the words. Or any words. _What am I doing? I just rejected him. _His body said yes, but his mind revolted. “Just leave it.”

Ander stormed off, head spinning, not bothering to look back because it was just one more thing he couldn’t bear. _Not my proudest moment. But if I had pride, I wouldn’t have come here in the first place. _


	3. Volley 15-15

“Please stay, let me apologize.”

Even Ander had to concede that catfishing Omar wasn’t his best and brightest idea. But it was definitely his only that had a chance. _At least I didn’t lie. Except out of omission, which isn’t actually anything new._

Hell even the throwaway username- _Discreet19_\- was completely accurate, if not aboveboard. The closet might be roomy enough for guests- _well one guest in particular_\- but discretion was the only way it would stay that way. And while the nineteen didn’t refer to his age, he suspected Omar wouldn’t have any complaints when he found out the reason why.

Of course this whole situation was distinct from the stupidest thing he’d ever done. _There were definitely better ways to get high than hit up those goons by Samuel’s house._

He reflexively tried to flex the hand they broke, his movement restricted by the brace. _On the other hand, that lie about hurting myself in Guzman’s pool was some of my finest work. And I did get a get-out-of-tennis-jail free card out of it. _It all evened out, somehow.

_ Minus the part where I lost Omar._

But here he was, in the flesh, mad and confused. _Not exactly the response I wanted but it was only to be expected given where we left things off._

Besides, in the grand scheme of things, it was really Omar’s fault for not vetting. Again. Particularly when there was one person on the planet he didn’t want to see. _I’d question his judgment if it wasn’t hopefully going to get me laid tonight. _

“You made me come all the way here,” Omar gestured at the opulent surroundings, the Marchioness’ estate. It was really the first time he even had approached Ander’s world and the sense of him being out of place was palpable. This wasn’t some anonymous hookup in what might as well have been an alley or some high school party at his best friend’s place. “For that?”

_ A half-assed attempt at an apology through catfishing, why yes, yes I did. It’s all part of my endless charm. Which is why you’ll give me chance number three. I’ll probably fuck it up again, but the feeling of falling is always pleasant till you hit the ground. _

“Look,” Ander didn’t really have any tricks left up his sleeve. Frankly he was surprised he had gotten this far. He opted to go the simplest route, just being honest. “I didn’t just want to see you. I thought we could try to finish what we started. I want to be with you.”

He started leaning in. “Kiss you.”

Omar wasn’t immediately running for the hills, which he figured was a good sign. He was inches away now, “Properly. Don’t you?”

Omar sighed, “This is what I get for meeting with an idiot who hasn’t heard of autocorrect.” _Ouch, I try very hard to misspell words, thank you very much._

“But if that nineteen business is as real as the discreet part, well…” his teeth flashed bright in the firelight and just like that Ander knew he was in the clear. “There must be cameras around.”

“I happen to know some blind spots.” _I’ve had the misfortune of walking in on Polo and Carla shacking it up in one of them one too many times. Because apparently the privacy of her bedroom isn’t risqué enough. _

Ander led him to the wine cellar, because of course this was exactly the kind of place to have a wine cellar, complete with all those old creaking oaken barrels, stone walls, and artfully arched roofs. It felt like a world apart. All his worries about keeping it a secret seemed far away. White noise to be drowned out by the sound of his own heart attempting a jailbreak outside his chest. 

They stood there silent for just a moment, sizing each other up like that first meeting all over again. Apparently, Omar was all talked out and it was never like Ander had much to say to start with. The moment they connected was electric. His nerve endings were fried all over again, a now familiar ache. It was like picking up right where they had left off as if they had never stopped. _In my dreams._

Ander pinned him up against the stone masonry. _Stuck between a rock and something hard, right where he wants to be. _The kisses came quick and feral now, lips locked in an arms race.

For the briefest of moments, Ander felt observed in this little oasis. He was tempted to open his eyes, just a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. This was meant to be a secret tryst after all. But Omar was there, hands and lips and body all very insistent and compelling. It was probably just his imagination anyway.

Omar was pushing back now, and Ander gave him inch after inch, just about avoiding falling back flat on his ass. _No running away this time. And no drugs necessary. For a natural high. Because I’m getting high on humans. Well one in particular._


	4. Forced Error 15-30

“Sorry about the party last night, man. I saw you were with other people. Got bored and bailed.” _The best lies are half-truths. _And Ander did feel genuinely feel bad for leaving his friend hanging. But Guzman always had Lu by his side, it’s been a long ass time since he knew what it was like to feel alone. _And factoring in the whole being into guys factor tends to intensify that kind of thing. _

Guzman was silent for a moment, staring at himself in the mirror.

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying?”

Ander’s heart stopped. He wanted to come up with a swift retort, something decisive that would shut this whole conversation down, but his brain was moving too slow, shocked at being called out. He was never called out.

This didn’t mean Guzman knew everything. Maybe it would be easier just to wait it out, see the full charges, before deciding how to talk (lie) his way out of this one. _No need to lay all my cards out on the table. Bluffing’s worked so far. _

“Do you honestly think that anyone cares if you are into dudes?” The question was a body blow. He knew he could trust Guzman to keep a secret, but if he knew, others could too. Suddenly it was all out of his control. _Like everything else in my life._

“No.” _Strangers on the street… maybe, but my friends never. _He supposed he could have denied it, but there wasn’t much point. It was an open question how Guzman knew. Maybe he had been too sloppy at the Marchioness’ or Samuel’s, Omar was incredibly distracting that way.

He was struggling to meet Guzman’s judgmental gaze. The worst part being Ander knew it was because he had lied, not anything else. _I just wanted something for myself, is that so criminal?_

Guzman was on a raging roll now, rattling off accusatory questions, one after the other. “Then why are you avoiding us? Why are you acting so weird? Why the fuck are you using?”

Ander could do without all the moralizing. Who was Guzman to judge him? His guilt and shame (he only now realized that had been lurking underneath the surface, all this time) transfigured into fury.

His injured hand was balled into a raised fist, practically ready to slam down into his friend’s pretty face. But then he thought of a more productive wave to let loose all this feeling. Into the locker. Bang after bang, the sound of delaying his return to tennis.

Guzman was quick to grapple with his arms, bear-hugging them into Ander’s torso, stopping him, as if he could feel a thing. “Calm down Ander.” _Oh I’m supposed to stay calm says the dude with major rage issues. Ready to murder Samuel if he so much looks at his sister. _

“Are you really arrogant enough to think you’re the only one I’ve ever lied to? I’ve been lying for years.” _It’s get’s remarkably easy with loads of practice. Yes father, I like tennis and girls. No, I would never use mind altering substances to numb the pain or feel something, anything good._

“What are you talking about?” _Oh, now you don’t know. _Which wasn’t very fair to Guzman of him. Sometimes in the privacy of his own mind, he forgot how good an actor he’d become.

“Ander the tennis star. Might as well get that tattooed on my forehead, it’s basically my fucking last name.” _Let’s not give my father any ideas. _

Ander could feel the tears now, coming unbidden. All that rage and frustration and guilt needing a release, leaving marks on his face in little rivulets. _How fucking embarrassing. _“I don’t like it. I’ve never liked it.”

“Then quit.” Guzman said it with such a simple finality. Ander could almost buy that it was a real option. _I do try to break my parents’ hearts with only one thing at a time. And I have a drug habit that needs tending to. _

“And make all those years of sacrifice for nothing. Never. I couldn’t do it to them.” He clarified, “My parents. All that time and money they’ve invested.” _Thousands of hours and euros for my distinctly ungrateful ass. _“Or to myself.” _It all has to mean something. Be worth something. _

He sunk his head low into Guzman’s very available shoulder, not caring if his tears stained his friend’s robe. _This is pathetic. _His whole body was trembling, as if he was trapped freezing in some snow heap. _I’m pathetic. _

***

Ander was sitting back, leg bouncing away under the table, as Guzman and Polo chatted away. _Where is he? _Ander had to resist the urge to constantly check the door, his own fault for sitting facing away from the cafe’s entrance.

He found that Omar was now occupying a disproportionate number of his thoughts, waking and sleeping. It was a symptom of how infrequently they were able to link up. Between classes and practice it was almost impossible to find the time to steal moments away with him.

_ So this must be what a crush feels like. _No wonder Guzman and Polo turned into idiots- _well more than usual_\- around their girlfriends.

Guzman cracked a smile. “Here comes your man.” He gestured over Ander’s head. _Finally._

Ander nearly leapt from the table in excitement, before composing himself with something resembling dignity to greet Omar.

Omar didn’t bother to even look at him, all his attention was on Guzman and Polo still at the table. “I didn’t know they’d be here.” _The hazards of trying to maintain a social life and some chance for something more._

“I want to kiss you.” _Do I have one move? Yes. Does it lead to wonderful things every time? Yes, yes it does. _

“Ander!” he practically hissed, leaping away from Ander as if he had leprosy. “Are you high? Drunk?”

Ander frowned. “You sound like Guzman. I already have one nag. I don’t need another for a boyfriend.” _Bit harsh but the drug dealer should be a bit more understanding given he’s making a livelihood off it. Plus, I’m completely sober at the moment, for once. _

Omar kept eyeing Guzman and Polo, who were sniggering about something back at the table. “Come on man, it’s fucking obvious.” _Dude, that’s just the guys being themselves._ _Complete and utter brats._

“So what if they see us talking. Just sit down. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Omar sighed, but followed Ander’s lead.

When they arrived at the table, Ander noticed Omar pointedly sat across from him. He felt the distance. He wished they were back in that gay bar, where they could drink and have a laugh. _And kiss._ All without Omar jumping at his own shadow.

“I just wanted to say as long as you don’t sell shit to my friend,” Guzman clasped one hand on Omar’s shoulder, wrapping his arm around his neck. “We’re okay. I support you, gay power and all that.” _He’s got the spirit… maybe?_

Ander squirmed in his seat, cringing that his friends could be so thick. Meanwhile Omar promptly deserted his, and their company altogether.

“Thanks for that.” Guzman’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but Ander didn’t have time to abuse him of any notions of him being some kind of helping hand. He had other priorities to sort out.

Omar was walking so fast that Ander broke out into a light jog to catch up. “Omar, come on, they’re my friends.” He didn’t turn his head or acknowledge his words. “What’s your problem?”

“What is my problem!? What is your problem?” Ander flinched. Sure, he had seen Omar annoyed before. Irritated even. But there had always been an undercurrent of this-may-as-well-happen, a playful undercurrent to all the sturm und drang, cutting against the melodrama of it all. The sense of a silver lining lighting the way forward. 

“Why did you tell your friends that we’re together?” _What exactly was I supposed to do? It’s an open secret now. _“And where the hell did you even get that idea? Because we’re not. Together. Not now. Not ever.” _Ouch._

“I don’t get why you’re being like this.”

“Because I can’t do this. Not anymore.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.” He folded his arms across his chest, his feet rooted to the ground. “Unless you think I’m too stupid.” _Wouldn’t be the first time. _

“Too many people know. Even my sister.” _Wait Nadia knows? This really doesn’t qualify as a secret anymore does it. _“And if we slipped up even once and it got back to my family. Well you don’t know my family, but I’d break their hearts.”

“As if I don’t know anything about that.” He laughed bitterly.

Before they could reach some kind of resolution, Marina interrupted, looking for a connect. Omar seized the opportunity to dip. Ander would resent him for running away more if he hadn’t done it the first time they had met.

She gave him a once over. “You okay?” _I’m not sure if I want to cry or punch something… well probably a lot of things. So nothing new really._

But Guzman’s kid sister didn’t need to know anything like that. Even if he was ever the sharing type.

“I’m fine.” _Perfectly fine. Just like I always am._


	5. Backhand 30-30

Everything was turning to shit and fire all at once. It was rank and instead of being cleansing, the fire only burned him, head and heart scorched and scarred. This kind of thing didn’t just happen spontaneously of course. And Ander had quite the list of people to blame.

It all began with Marina, the kid sister no longer content to be a kid. Which would normally be the sort of thing that he would find hilarious because it pissed off Guzman so much. But no, she had to be dumb enough to get caught drug dealing on campus with his would-be boyfriend and all too willing to throw him under the bus without a second thought. 

And his mom just had to be the principal and extra paranoid because Guzman tipped her off to his habit. _It’s enough to make the whole Nunier Osuna clan seem like more trouble than they’re worth._ He lied of course when she had confronted him but she wasn’t stupid so that could only make things more difficult in the future.

But there was no future. Ander Munoz did not exist. At least as far as Omar was concerned. _Damn him for being reckless enough to risk trading one type of prison for the real thing._ And now his mom would out him to his parents. _At least as a drug dealer._

He kept texting him. Out of habit. It was all just small updates and unanswered questions. _He had to see my warning… right?_ But silence was all he ever got in return. Ander even tried trawling Grindr in case his number had been blocked but no luck. 

Omar sulking wasn’t unusual per se. _How many times have we’ve done this back and forth now?_ But the urgency should’ve overrode all that white noise. Omar had to see how much he cared. That he was trying to make up for being reckless with Omar’s trust and feelings.

It was suffocating, being alone in so many quiet hours, waiting with just his thoughts and fears for companionship. Ander was always on edge, never knowing what was going on with the one other person he cared about, stewing in his feelings. Finally he reached a boiling point that made him just bold enough, just angry enough, just desperate enough to do something. 

Ander decided to visit that family store that looked so much like a prison to Omar. He did concede a certain sadness clung to the aisles. It had the quaint feel of something once necessary that had been surpassed and it didn’t even know it yet. A dead end.

Omar was manning the register, looking numb and bored. At least until the bell rang announcing Ander’s arrival. _I tend to have that effect on people. _

He played at being the ordinary customer, perusing the wares. Aware of Omar’s father sorting produce towards the back, he yelled, “Let’s go.” He couldn’t see why Omar was toiling away here, ignoring him. Surely even the boy that hurt him had to be better than this.

Omar responded with a wide eyed and panicked, “No.”

Ander rolled his eyes, but continued the charade a little longer, grabbing an item at random, and approaching the only thing in the whole store that held his interest.

“I need change.” They both watched out of the corner of their eyes as Omar’s father went further into the bowels of the store, safely out of earshot.

_ Time to get down to business. _“Why haven’t you answered my texts?”

“My cell got taken away given you know.” _So looks like my warning didn’t do jack shit. _

Ander let out an exasperated sigh, “Then when can we meet?” The irritation that had built up was dissipating now that there was an explanation for being ghosted. Didn’t mean he wasn’t impatient to skip to the good part. _It’s been far too long. _

“I’m chained behind this counter for the next two years.” _You’re not going to make this easy huh. _

Before Ander could respond, Omar’s father returned with change in hand. The transaction script resumed. Omar pawned off his change, and Ander literally seized his opportunity, consequences be damned.

They locked eyes as Ander pulled him closer, trying to close the distance provided by that cursed counter.

“Omar please.” _I need you. Right now and every day that follows. My heart’s in the right place, can’t you see that?_

Omar’s eyes went large and pleading. “I can’t.”

Ander could hear a finality to those words. They hammered in the nails already place above the coffin. If Omar could say no now, he was strong enough- _or weak enough depending on your perspective_ – to say them again and again.

They broke apart as quickly as they had joined before Omar’s father could notice.

Ander had his change and Omar finished the last bit of the script, a half-hearted, “Have a good day.” _Neither of us are having a good day and you know it. _

Ander stormed off, pondering what to do. _What can I possibly do?_

Unfortunately, it looked like the same old tricks wouldn’t work again. _I’ve been lucky so far and all lucky streaks run out eventually. _Omar was under lock and key in that stupid store, always under the watchful suspicious eyes of his father.

Nadia was his only chance. He couldn’t claim to know her well. Or at all. She existed at the farthest reaches of his orbit, skimming at the edges of his consciousness.

Of course, Lu was fixated like a harpy on her prey, all over a petty jealous for her marks. _Not something I’ve ever pretended at competing for._

And Guzman seemed weirdly enamored with her given his general disdain for the scholarship students. Then again given the state of his love life, it wasn’t like he was in any position to judge. 

At school the next day his first bit of business was pulling her aside before class.

“Nadia,” She turned to face him, eyeing him warily as he approached. _Fair enough I must scream trouble to your family like everyone at this school._ “Can you do me a favor?”

“Yes.”

The immediate unqualified affirmative took him aback. He had all these arguments at the ready about why she should help him if only for her brother’s sake. She didn’t even know what she had

“Give this to your brother.”

She eyed the item he offered up with a practiced suspicion- _must run in the family. _It was just a simple letter enclosed in simple cream envelope with Omar’s hastily scrawled across the front.

He had spent the night scribbling away on what to say, draft after draft. He could see his parents wondering where that work ethic was with his school work. _Only one of those things is a labor of love. _

It’s not like he a lot of practice sharing his feelings. And it seemed so much more permanent to see all the background radiation thoughts in his head spilled out on ink and paper, tangible. _And mostly legible. _

Most important was the bit at the very end. An address- _mine_\- paired with a date and time. His parents wouldn’t be home. If Omar could manage a jail break or some kind of parole, Ander wanted to make it worth his while.

Sensing the slightest bit of hesitation, he felt the need to elaborate why he went to the trouble of all the old-fashioned cloak and dagger and dragging her into the mess that was his life. “I know your father took away his phone, and I don’t want to risk going to the store again and have them see me talking to him.”

It was all in Nadia’s hands now. Literally. She didn’t protest when he passed if off to her. He supposed if she really disapproved she could simply toss it in the trash or make sure Omar never saw it in half a dozen different ways.

But they were siblings, and if Guzman and Marina were any kind of guide- _an admittedly big if_ \- they genuinely cared about each other underneath any tensions and bluster and banter.

It was his last hope. His last move except to rot away yearning and mourning for what could have been. There would be no more regrets.


	6. Ace 40-30

_ Who knew I had an exhibitionist streak? _That was definitely an exaggeration; Ander was hardly the first person ever to do yardwork shirtless. And it was quite hot out with summer kicking off as term wound down. _Need to do something to nip that developing farmer’s tan in the bud. _

Besides the show wasn’t for the neighbors but for Omar. If he actually decided to show. _If he even got the message in time._

And even if he did there were no guarantees he would actually show. Omar pretty convincingly played the part of being chained behind that store counter._ He must know that life under his father’s thumb is no life at all._

He wound the hose round, giving himself a spray to wash the sweat from his hair. Little rivulets of water worked their way down his face and unto his chest. _Gratuitous yes, and it’s certainly a show. Almost something out of a porno. _But Ander needed to cool off anyway, no use getting hot and heavy before anything steamy even got going. 

A hesitant unsure “hey” interrupted his impromptu outdoor shower. _He came. Hopefully not for the only time today. _

Ander tossed the hose aside carelessly; it was the least of his concerns at the moment.

“Let’s go inside.” Ander snagged a towel to dry himself off, leading Omar into his world properly for the first time. _I’m a different kind of outsider at the Marchioness’ but this is my house, my home. _

Omar lingered at the entryway. He had something of a hare about him, ready to bolt at the first sign of the slightest bit of trouble. “Sure your parents aren’t here?” _Ye of so little faith._

Ander didn’t bother saying aloud the answer, turning on his heel and going in for the kiss. And then another and another, each putting to bed any doubts that they were truly alone. _And free. _

Ander lifted Omar’s shirt over his head. _Because why should I be the only one shirtless here. _

“You want to fuck?” Ander asked in the heartbeat between each fevered kiss. He spun Omar around, grinding against him, hands working their way down his now bare chest, grabbing at his crotch. “We could always just talk.”_ Talking bodies. Let’s see how fluent we are._

“While we fuck.” Omar mirrored back that shit-eating grin that Ander so often flashed his way. _I knew there was a reason I liked you. Besides the obvious. _

Having Omar be in his room was an experience. It’s that no one else was allowed into his room. But this was the first

“No pants in bed.” Ander worked to unbutton Omar’s, yanking them down. “My house, my rules.” Not that Omar was protesting as he wriggled his legs trying to remove them.

They broke apart a moment as Omar properly took them off and tossed them aside, while Ander ditched his own, both boys including their underwear. _There’s really no elegant way to do this._

Unencumbered Ander and Omar plunged right into where they had left off. Ander pressed down on Omar until he fell into the bed. _There’s a boy in my bed. _An image that only made sense in a dream. _But if the developing hard on is any indication, it’s very real._

Ander honestly could barely tell where he ended and Omar began. The whole experience had a disjointed surreal feel. Every moment there was something new that caught his attention. The particular curvature of Omar’s thighs. The texture of smooth skin giving way to hair. The way Omar bit down on his lip in anticipation. The grunts of effort and moans, both soft and rowdy, of pleasure.

They settled into a rhythm all their own by trial and error.

Afterward they luxuriated in their own little oasis. Ander remained on top, resting between Omar’s thighs. Ander could get used to this feeling. The knot in his stomach was unwound for once. The voices in his head were mute. All his problems felt impossibly far away, like in an entirely different universe.

He and Omar could have a million nights- _well afternoons and mornings, all the times, why limit myself- _just like this one. Even if they had sneak behind their loved ones back to do it.

There was one stumbling block to their own Romeo and Juliet love story. And it wasn’t the suicide pact. _His hand is promised to another... _Not that Ander was the jealous kind. “Would you really go through with it?”

Omar’s face scrunched in a painfully adorable way as he tilted his head to the side, leaning against the arm Ander was using to help support himself.

“The marriage that your parents want to arrange for you,” Ander elaborated. “To a girl.” Which didn’t really need to be said aloud, but Ander felt it succinctly got at the heart of the issue.

“It’s absurd.” _I have the receipts that you like dick. Hell I can still hear your moans in my head. And if girls were even an option you wouldn’t look twice at me. It would be so much easier to repress and ignore. I’ve been there. _

Omar sighed, a deep one that rattled through his entire body, Ander could feel it.

As Omar averted his gaze, staring at the ceiling, he said, “What a downer. That’s really your idea of pillow talk?” _No more than that’s your idea of answer._

“You wouldn’t, right?” _Okay maybe more than a bit jealous. _It all came out terribly earnestly.

Omar continued demonstrating poor conversational skills, opting to ask instead, “When did you figure out you liked guys?”

“You’re changing the subject.” Ander sat upright, pulling back. Omar followed suit, keeping their legs wrapped together, placing his hands on Ander’s hips.

“I mean do your parents know?”

It was Ander’s turn for his eyes to narrow. He almost found the concept hilarious. _Of course not. I didn’t just want the house empty so we could be as loud and messy as we wanted. _

“I mean those are the questions, right?” Omar was visibly relaxing now, face settling into the gentle repose of a cat. “The first two to ask when any gay guys meet.” _We may have skipped them the first few go arounds. _

“Look I want this moment to be ours. Just us, that’s the point of all this sneaking. Our reward. I don’t want to spend it thinking about what my father will do or some phantom girl that will get a disappointing husband.”

Ander conceded he had a point. “Okay.” _But we both know your father is out there arranging it. The world keeps on turning. _

They resumed making out. And something in Ander crystallized in this moment. Yeah Omar was objectively hot, and what they just did belonged on any (X rated) highlights reel of his life. But there was something more here. _If I just wanted a fuckbuddy there’s easier to find. _

“I love you.” He didn’t even care if Omar said it back. Okay maybe he cared a little. But it would be enough. Just to express what he had thought impossible for so long aloud. _To love a boy. _

Omar sealed Ander’s declaration with a kiss. Which was another non-response, but Ander let it slide because at least this was one he could enjoy. _Is it just to shut me up… probably. But bad behavioral psych there dude, just encourages more questionable actions by me._

“It’s time I leave.” Omar began to untangle their limbs. The open air suddenly felt brisk compared to the warmth of skin to skin. “I’ll be expected back soon. And I was lucky to escape as is. My dad will only tighten the leash if I’m caught out again.”

Ander pouted. But he supposed someone had to be thinking rationally. _Or just plain think period with something besides their dick. _They still had some time to burn before his parents would be expected home, but better safe than sorry.

Omar got hastily dressed, sorting through the clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor to find his own. Underwear was unfortunately the first to be put on. Ander sighed internally. _There goes that gloriously unobstructed view. _

The sphere of influence of their oasis just managed to extend to the deck. Wearing nothing but his own underwear, he walked Omar out. _And so that exhibitionist streak continues._

But there was simply nothing to be self-conscious about after the afternoon they had shared. _We both laid it all out there bare. Literally. _

Omar was starting to make a move toward the stairs, to leave. Ander pressed him back against the railing, pelvis first, pinning him down. _You won’t escape me that easily._

Ander leaned in for one last tasting. Sweet and slow. The kind of kiss that could be a goodbye.

The thought of parting was just so wrong that Ander almost wanted to say fuck it and draw Omar back in to the house. What did it matter if his parents caught them, if only Ander could draw it out for a few more stolen moments. _I’m drunk on you Omar Shana. _

Omar broke off first. As he had to. _I don’t want to let go. _

Ander watched him as he left, pondering what to do know. He felt drained but basically satisfied… for now. But it wouldn’t be long before all ache and urges of loneliness returned. They were already bubbling under the surface as he faced the prospect of not knowing the next chance they’d get. _But this was the time he was all mine. _


	7. Advantage Out

Ander arrived at Las Encinas in a sour mood to put it generously. It was times like this he wished he wasn’t the principal’s son so that he could just ditch. But no, he had to go through all the motions of normality after his world had coming crashing down. _Well partially. _

Family meals were always a trial. There was always an air of interrogation as they attempted to pry into his business. Ander knew it was supposed to be a sign that they cared, but he wasn’t convinced they actually did. They only checked in on his well-being as far as it reflected back on them and their parenting.

The pair of them had been especially skittish today as if he was about to turn the tables on them and start asking awkward questions about the state of their marriage. _Not that they’d give any answers that would surprise me._

Ander had done his best to ignore them, especially given that there had been good food to chow down on instead. _And as long as I was eating, I couldn’t be forced to talk. _But it turned out that not questioning the “furtive” glances, the weary sighs, and the constant fidgeting of hands and limbs was a critical mistake. _What exactly did they have to be nervous about anyway?_

They always held all the cards. And they just added yet another to their collection. _I’m gay… happy. _They didn’t even have the decency to sit on it and wait for him to talk to them on his own. _Not that I was planning to anytime soon, but it’s the principle. _

There was still the question of how they found out. It had to be some violation of privacy or another. They had denied snooping on his computer. And anyway, Ander was pretty sure he had covered all his digital tracks. _Wouldn’t be much of a secret otherwise. _

Hell he had even deleted Grindr off his phone now that things were relatively in a good place with Omar. _I don’t need the questionable validation of being creeped on by guys two or three times my age. _

He supposed he was just using the question of how to distract from the reality of what had gone down. _First my friends, now my parents. _He might as well announce it on the school loudspeakers to be done with this whole Coming Out Thing. 

But first a trial of a different kind. It was an exam day, and he was sure to fail. _Best case scenario, I pass by the skin of my teeth._ But he couldn’t be bothered to get worked up about it. He suspected his iffy marks would still be forgiven as long as he kept up with the tennis golden boy routine. _I mean I can even fuck guys as long as I’m a tennis star. What’s a few failed exams compared to that._

The way his father clearly wanted credit for the bare fucking minimum was exhausting. _How exactly was I supposed to take you saying how your father would’ve beat on you for being gay? Hooray you’re not a child abuser?_

And then there was that moment when he had used that slur. Not with any malicious intent, just carelessly with the kind of easy ignorance of someone who never had to consider it being used against them. No less insulting for the clear laziness.

At the end of the day, it wasn’t like that word had any special power over him. He had always flown under the radar, so it never been used as a verbal stick against him personally. But it still symbolized the ways people would hate him for daring to exist. That no matter what else he did or who else he was, he was reducible to just that. 

All in all, just another sign that he had a clueless father. _But I knew that already. _It was ridiculous that his first thought had been how it would impact that impending tennis career. Like being gay was some deep inconvenience that had to be overcome, either spun to their advantage or stage managed away.

In comparison he gave his mom the slightest benefit of the doubt. He could sense her judgment when she figured out it was that Omar he was seeing. _I did try my best to defend him but the whole drug dealer schtick isn’t quite endearing to the parental type. _But at least she was engaging as if he was still a human being not a puppet.

And who knows maybe she could figure out the magic bullet that would free Omar from his father’s tyranny. Ander would try something bold (and probably stupid) himself, but if he even managed to survive the encounter, Omar would finish the job when he found out. _Can’t he see I’m part of this too. That I only want to help._

Ander stared listlessly at the back of the exam, while the teacher droned on with the usual instructions not to turn it over until she called time. He just wanted to get it over with. _Just l__et me dig my own grave. _

Lu strutted into the room, despite having been suspended for her antics. She clearly intended to take the exam regardless, getting by on supreme confidence and security in her position. _Because when have the rules of life ever applied to her. _

But this little dust up was drowned out by Omar’s father, who crashed into the room, agitated like a thunderstorm. He motioned at Nadia, commanding that she go with him. _Oh thank god this is just about Nadia. _Like he felt bad for her. She clearly belonged at this school in a way he never would. _Frankly more than most of the rich assholes in this place. _

But his first thought had been that something had happened with Omar. _Nothing good knowing his father. _

His mother strode in Mr. Shana’s wake, imploring with him to calm down, to show mercy. _Asking her to speak with him was clearly a mistake. _Neither his mother’s nor Nadia’s own pleas made any impact as he snatched at Nadia’s wrist and began to drag her from the room. Guzman sprang into action, and Ander found himself rising from his seat. They both followed the storm as it departed the classroom as soon as it had arrived.

“I feel sorry for her and your son. To be a woman or gay in your family must be hell.” His mother shouted after him, clearly venting her frustrations at the receding figures in the hall. _This school really ought to invest in security at this point._

Like a final curse, she punctuated it, “Poor Omar!” _No._

It was the worst thing she could have said or done. The violation of trust, privacy, and common decency to score a quick point with all the supreme confidence of someone who believed they exclusively held the moral high ground. He swallowed his body-blow reaction because in the heat of the moment, he needed to raise his hackles in defense of his terribly misguided mother.

Nadia’s shell-shocked face- _she’s having quite the morning too; we should trade war stories if I ever see her again_\- said everything. Her father wheeled back upon them, and Ander stepped forward of his mother to run interference should it prove necessary. He wasn’t particularly upset at the prospect of having an altercation

“What are you insinuating about my son?” His face was marred by an emotion Ander couldn’t quite identify. But this was clearly a man at his breaking point, willing to do as much collateral damage with the shrapnel of his exploding life as possible.

It was almost enough to make Ander grateful for his own father. _But not quite._

Her father seemed to finally register Nadia’s desperate pleas and left without another word or so much as a backwards glance. His daughter was not so discrete, giving Guzman once last longing look.

Ander tried to catch his mother’s eye, but she was assiduously avoiding his gaze. She was wearing her principal face, and in full damage control mode. She turned around and began to shepherd the pair of them back into the classroom.

Ander played along reluctantly. He desperately wanted to speak with her, but knew there was no point when she was like this. Besides neither of them could fully drop their guard around Guzman, at least not when it came to this, and certainly not with the other students likely hungrily hanging on every word being said. _Drama attracts the vultures._

He definitely failed that exam. But still reeling from the double loss today, he couldn’t even muster the energy to pretend to care. _Fuck it. Fuck everything. _

He didn’t normally wait after school for his mom to be done with her various duties. Frankly given how boring it was when he had been forced to on occasion, it was one of the circles of his personal hell, but given he was already in the deepest pit, it barely registered. This was a conversation that couldn’t wait too long. _It already has._

Once sure that they were the only ones on campus besides the janitorial staff, he rapped his knuckles on her office door.

She glanced upward from some papers on her desk. She shuffled them and then placed them back down. “Come in.”

“How could you.” It wasn’t really a question, just an accusation.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was- am,” she corrected herself, “am the adult in this situation, and I failed Nadia,” _Taken out of the school she loves and excels at. _“and Omar,” _Outed to his homophobic family._ “and you today.”

“His father will crucify him for this. You must know that. If Omar was desperate enough to sell drugs to get out while still safely in the closet…” Ander shuddered at the incomplete thought.

“Ander, I understand your pain.” He had to laugh, low and bitter. _That’s almost as rich as us._ “But you’re not his keeper.”

“You don’t understand. They’re were already trying to marry him off to some ‘nice’ Muslim girl. Imagine how quickly they’ll move now you planted that idea in their heads.” _I’ve never been good at sharing. And he and whatever unlucky girl he gets saddled with will be miserable together at best. _

“Oh Ander.” Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

His mother’s heartbreak for him was written all over the lines of her face. She was clearly at her own kind of limit. Like Nadia and Omar’s father. Although she looked likelier to shatter inward than explode out.

“Lord forgive me, but I cannot protect you from this, not matter how much I want to. And after today I’d understand if you’d prefer me to sit on the sidelines.”

“That would be great actually. I was doing just fine on my own.” It was a cruel twisting of the knife into his clearly apologetic mother. But he didn’t feel like listening to his better angels. He stormed out, having said his piece.

_Fuck it. I don’t need anyone. _Omar’s face flashed in his mind’s eye._ Fuck everything. _


	8. Deuce

Everything hurt. Something wet and sticky clung to his cheek like a sloppy kiss. Ander would investigate exactly what it was but at the moment just existing was making him dizzy, let alone trying to move.

So Ander just stared up at the sky, wondering about the things he did for love. _I tried to stop him. _But he knew from experience what Guzman was capable of when he was on a rampage. _Especially when it comes to protecting Marina. _

_ I was damned no matter what I did. _So, he had stood by his friend. The three of them- because of course Pollo had to be dragged in too- had been walking shoulder to shoulder. _In our school uniforms, hardly intimidating, even if Guzman was wielding that stupid bat. _

And now he was laid out on the ground, distinctly not by his friend because they had all scattered once it became clear quite how outnumbered they were. But turning tail didn’t work out too well when the enemy knew the neighborhood better than him.

_I thought I was so clever hopping that fence. _So clever to end up in a dead end with no choice but to hide and pray. And as it happens, he was shit at crouching and hiding. _You get outed once and suddenly can’t hide for shit. _

The fact that it had been five on one made things slightly better- _or worse depending on your perspective. _At the very least it had been so unwinnable that his pride was just about the only thing left unscathed.

He shut his eyes, hoping maybe slipping into unconsciousness would be some relief. _A quick cat-nap. I can deal with the clean up later. _

The next thing he was aware of was someone shaking him, calling out a word on repeat. It took a beat for him to recognize it was his name. And another to figure out he knew that voice.

“Ander.” _Omar. _There was another shake, which seemed a bit violent given what he had just been through. Grasping hands knotted up the fabric of his uniform. “Just be okay.”

Ander’s eyelids fluttered. He wanted to catch this moment, to see the concern that so clearly inflect Omar’s voice, to reassure him that everything was okay. But he was struggling to shake off the disorientation.

“I love you damn it.”

Ander let loose a soft gasp of breath that was only partially related to the pain.

He attempted a laugh that was stillborn, wincing as he felt the full extent of his injuries. “Asshole, they had to kill me for you to say it.” _Worth it? Definitely._

He’d kiss him right then and there if his head wasn’t aching and he could miraculously avoid getting his blood all over the both of them. _Not exactly sanitary that._

His knight in the leather jacket chuckled softly and touched his forehead against Ander’s own. “I think maybe, just maybe fighting isn’t your thing.” _So much for my unwounded pride. _

***

School dances were always just so… tame. _That’s what pregaming and afterparties are for. _At least Christian had been able to spike the punch. _With a crucial assist from me. _Unfortunately, that was the highlight of the evening so far.

Although he may have spoken too soon as he spotted a decidedly out of place looking trio hovering at the edges of the dancefloor. His eyes went straight to Omar, as were their recent habit, but Nadia and their father were there as well. At first, he kept his distance, his last encounter with the full Shana clan having been an unqualified disaster for all involved. _I’m not drunk enough for this. _

Once he saw that the siblings were on their own, he took another swig of the spiked punch and brushed past them. He kept walking, not looking back. But he was sure that Omar noticed the little signal that he was here.

Ander settled into an empty classroom and waited. The sounds of dance filtered in, distorted but still present. His heart matched the thumping music, beat for beat.

A familiar figure was making his way down the hall, notably alone. Ander seized him with a kiss. Idly he supposed that it could have backfired spectacularly if the wrong person saw them. But in the moment, it felt just right.

For the first time since Omar said those three little words, they were properly alone, just the two of them. There were no chaperones waiting in the wings. No judgmental or concerned parents or friends intruding on them.

They let their bodies do most of the talking, particularly given that their lips were otherwise occupied. But once the initial lust was sated- _for the moment_\- they were content just to be, to exist in the same physical space for once. Wasn’t the same thing as doing nothing, their hands made their way all over, seeking reassurance that this wasn’t a dream. 

Omar attempted to extricate himself, but Ander wasn’t about to let go that easily. “Ander, I have to get back.”

The most selfish, frustrated parts of Ander wanted to press against the limits of what they could get away with, the consequences be damned. He was tired of sharing Omar with his father.

“Is this how it’s always going to be? Can you ever just be free of your father?”

All this sneaking had been fun at first. There had been a mutual thrill as they fell down the rabbit hole together. But now it just felt as if they were desperately trying to hold off the inevitable rupture. The scene when his mother had outed Omar replayed in his head. There would be no understanding to be had out of that, no tolerance. 

“Speak for yourself.” _Ouch. _Ander couldn’t say that retort was unearned. _But still ouch. _

Omar cocked his head to the side, staring Ander down. “Exactly how many tennis matches will you be playing this summer?” 

Ander didn’t have an answer. Frankly he didn’t need to. They’d been having variations of this conversation for ages now. _Round and round. It’s enough to make someone dizzy. _

“Doesn’t matter.” Omar sighed, clearly weary of the same refrain. “We’re screwed.” _Except we’re not, screwing that is. Part of the problem. _“My father only lets me out of his sight when he goes to the bank in the afternoon.”

Ander raised an eyebrow and gestured at their decidedly father-free surroundings.

“He’s a bit distracted with Nadia today. But to bet on her being the new problem child…” he shook his head, “Might as well wait for hell to freeze over.” _With climate change, stranger things have happened._

“Ten minutes of freedom a day. That’s all I can offer you this summer.” Omar made it sound so pitiful. And Ander supposed it was in the grand scheme of things. But in that offer was the promise of consistency. Ander never knew when he was going to get the chance to steal a few moments with Omar. At least until now. 

“Doesn’t matter.” The only thing worse than smuggling time with Omar was no Omar at all. “All I want is to be with you.” _And I’ll do anything so that can keep happening. _

“What can be done in ten minutes?” _Use your imagination._

“Is that a challenge?”

Omar snorted, which had no right to be as endearing as it was. “You’re unreal.”

“Good. Real is boring.” _Real is our fathers. And responsibilities. And the million reasons why this can’t and shouldn’t work._

Omar leaned in and they resumed the fun part. Ander swore he could live off each kiss. _Reassuring I’ve still got my charms. _

When they broke apart for air, Ander declared, “You just watch. I’ll quit tennis.”

Omar teased, “And break your father’s heart?”

Ander set in his jaw, “Can’t break what he doesn’t have.”

Omar took the opportunity to make his escape to the door. He paused at the threshold, taking one last look back at Ander, who was resisting every instinct that said to tackle him, to make him stay.

“Fine then. To our summer of stolen moments.” _I’ll be sure to make them memorable. _


	9. Timeout

First some math. _God I’m willingly doing math outside school. Who even am I?_

Twelve weeks or eighty-four days of school holiday. Ten minutes a day made for a total of 840 minutes or fourteen hours. A little over half a day of quality time dripped out over three months. Little oases to shelter from the long days and even longer nights alone.

Guzman had retreated to his grandparent’s place in Asturias to recuperate and mourn more privately with his immediate family. Apparently the definition of immediate included Lu. Ander wasn’t sure whether she had invited herself or if Guzman genuinely needed her.

Polo was acting distant and cagey. He seemed to be taking his break-up with Carla hard. Speaking of the heartbreaker, she was vacationing in Croatia, her latest boy-toy in tow. Ander wouldn’t normally care, but unfortunately for him that meant Christian, who was pulling off the remarkable achievement of being even more codependent with Carla than Polo. 

Of course the whole thing would fall apart if it weren’t for Nadia’s continued blessing. She covered the storefront should there be any customers. And she not so subtly greeted her father whenever he returned.

Ander appreciated the signal for him to hastily dip into the nearest alley by any available door or window, often in varying states of dress. There had been a few close calls, and no matter how many alerts he set on his phone, he always had to try to steal away few more seconds.

Ander got the sense she didn’t quite approve of all the sneaking and lying, but she clearly figured it would be happening with or without her input. _Correct. _But she clearly loved Omar and as long as

Ander was the key to Omar’s happiness, he’d be tolerated as the interloper this whole arrangement made him out to be. He had the feeling that should he ever- _god forbid- _break Omar’s heart, she’d stake his through to even the score.

The pair of them quickly settled into a rhythm. Each day’s ten minutes took on its own distinct identity, a little container that could be filled with anything. It had the same nervous, charged energy as that stupid party game, seven minutes in heaven. _Maybe I thought that because there was no chance I’d end up with someone I’d be the slightest bit interested in._

Mondays were for making out. Breathing optional. Lots of grinding right next to some presumably scandalized backroom inventory. _Sanitary… not especially, but we’ve done worse. _The kisses were always quick and starving at first, trying to cram in the passion of all the time apart into a too small container.

Depending on the mood, the energy would remain high and intense throughout, desperation driving them to extremes. Or they’d gradually slow it, each sweet kiss long and soft, decadent even. A fuck you to the idea of their mandated time limit.

Tuesdays were for talking. The ticking clock meant they skipped over all the normal pleasantries. _Speaking of, when have we ever done small talk? It always seems like the world is ending for one of us. If not both at once._

Ander had started the tradition when he just had to share how he had finally quit tennis. His father had had the gall to talk about gearing up for practices at Marina’s service among all those mourners. When all Ander had wanted to do was be there for Guzman. 

That his father had been so blind-sided just showed how out of touch he had been. It wasn’t like he was threatening to win any father of the year awards. Like anyone with a shitty dad, Ander was instantly suspicious of the idea that good fathers even existed. And Omar’s provided no evidence to the contrary.

But Ander luxuriated in his newfound freedom, although it did mean he had to find other ways to stay in shape. _Still have one last fan of my stillborn tennis career to impress. _Although the distinct lack of anything else to do, provided plenty of time to work out.

Wednesdays were for wishing. Absolutely anything was on the table… as long as it could reasonably completed in ten minutes. Most of the time that just meant variations on the stuff they did the rest of the week. Often it worked like a game of truth and dare as they traded off. Ander never balked. He would do anything for Omar.

Thursdays were for touching. Not (necessarily) sexually. _For once. _Just with the intention to enjoy the feel and charge of each other’s presences. Bodies solid and warm, fitting together like puzzle pieces. It was all the physical confirmation that Ander needed to know that Omar was real and tangible. To feel like Ander wasn’t living in some extended lyrical dream.

Fingers traced the lines of every vein, sinew, and bone, marking bodies with imaginary swirling curves. Hands found hands, fingers constructing bridges over the space between them. It all made the moment of parting that much harder.

Fridays were for fucking. Well as close as they dare get to the full thing. They cut right to the chase; all their pent-up horniness released in one fell swoop. Foreplay was for the rest of the week.

Ander always left feeling a little grubby, unable to bask in the fundamental glow and joy of the moment. But the alternative of not even trying was even more repulsive. He had no intention of playing the chaste knight pining after some distant lover, trapped in a tower.

Saturdays were for smiling. A time to forget the fundamental shitshow that was the rest of their day to day existences. A few moments of happiness to replay

The goal was to make the other person laugh, preferably snorting without an ounce of grace. There were bonus points if they struggled to catch their breath. Not that they were keeping score, but Ander was pretty sure he was winning. _Looks like I still have that competitive streak._

Sundays were for seducing. It was tough to set any kind of mood with a ticking clock always in mind. Certainly no candles or rose peddles were in sight… not that that was ever their kind of thing. _The closest we’ve gotten to romance was when he shacked it at my place for that blissful impossibly long-ago afternoon. _

But sweet words and actions, even the slightest glance did most of the work. _Helps when you’re already mad about each other._

It was never enough. Ander was grateful for each stolen moment. But like any addiction the relief faded all too quickly in the long hours in between. If anything, his hunger sharpened each time to get the full experience, the freedom to have Omar all day and night. 

Summer’s end approached. The promise of a new status quo. A life reset.

Omar had started growing out his hair. Well at least the kind atop his head as he had shaved his mustache and goatee. It lent him a softer, younger look. Ander supposed it was because he no longer needed to look the part of the drug dealer and so shed the thuggish exoskeleton.

But the most exciting development was that a summer spent (mostly) under the ever-watchful eye of his father had rebuilt trust and afforded Omar a little more freedom to maneuver. And Ander intended to take full advantage.


	10. Fault

The week was barely half over and Ander was physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted. _Done. I’m just done. _But he had one more task to tick off before he could greet sleep in its sweet, empty embrace.

Said task, dragging Guzman’s drunk ass home, was unfortunately not distraction enough from all the thoughts ricocheting in his skull. Really it was just the latest in a long string of indignities and screw ups. The only silver lining was Polo’s presence, which made the whole thing the slightest bit easier to stomach. That he wasn’t stuck babysitting alone.

Guzman was wasted. Not fun party time wasted, stupidly wasted, like his veins were circulating alcohol instead of blood. His words were slow and slurred into each other. His body alternately moved with all the grace and skill of or was a cinder-block that Ander and Polo had to keep from crashing into the ground

It was the kind of drunk that ends the night either in the ICU or in the ground. And Guzman had chosen the wrong company to keep. The party never stopped whenever Valerio was around, and evidently whatever influence Lu had over her beau melted like dew in the sun in the face of the so-called “festivities.” That new girl Cayetana had been useless. She was so desperate to ingratiate herself as their host that she had failed the cardinal rule of hosting: never let the inmates run the asylum.

But all this was just the slightest irritation, frankly an almost welcome diversion from how thoroughly he had fucked up with Omar. 

He had been stupid to believe that he had convinced Omar to just say fuck it for a night. It had been too good to be true, which is why he supposed fate had intervened in such a high handed and dramatic fashion.

When Ander had gotten the news of Omar’s father being hospitalized, he had done all the right things. He had found Nadia in the crowd, a shock of big hair where normally her hijab rested, and got the both of them to the hospital as soon as humanly possible. 

Had that been the end of it, Omar surely would have appreciated the support in this trying time. But of course, Omar and Nadia’s mother had been there, and Ander proceeded to put his foot repeatedly in his mouth like a dog worrying its favorite chew toy. 

Lowlights had included comparing their mother’s parenting interrogation style to accusing Nadia of terrorism, claiming to have Muslim friends as a defense- _like any other asshole_, and furiously cursing as he dug his own grave deeper and deeper.

Ander was capable of recovering from all that of course. Nothing fatal. 

No what really hurt was how quick Omar had been to disavow him, the panic written all over his face, the ink still bleeding. _“He’s a friend of Nadia’s.” _

Ander knew that feeling, the blinding terror of keeping a secret. But the stark reminder of where they stood vis-à-vis each other had left a sour taste in his mouth.

And the absolute worst was how cold Omar’s voice sounded when he told Ander to go. It was the kind of thing that could be easily forgiven as a byproduct of the stress of the entire situation. And if Ander wasn’t being helpful anymore, he would have been more than happy to go. But Omar had refused to kiss and make up the next day when Ander had gone out of his way to bike by. 

Ander didn’t know where they stood anymore, the security of their summer bubble proving to have been as fragile as the real thing. And after trying to make amends himself, the ball was clearly in Omar’s court. But Ander had never been good at the waiting game. _And communication has never been our strong suit. _

And now here he was babysitting his spiraling best friend with another after seeing basically neither hide nor hair of the both of them for three months. _Oh joy. _

With a final heave like they were carrying a sack of flour, Ander and Polo were finally able to get Guzman deposited horizontally on his bed.

Now just to undress him, and they could be on their merry way. Ander took the top and Polo the bottom. The Las Encinas jacket came off easily enough.

“Don’t get hard now,” Guzman warned, giggling in the uninhibited way unique to drunks and toddlers. Ander would have been vaguely offended but that particular comment seemed to be directed at Polo, who was in the process of unbuttoning Guzman’s pants. 

Polo started bringing them down as Ander forced Guzman into a seated position to get the shirt. “Hey easy or I’ll be the one getting the hard-on.” Guzman giggled again, lower energy now, the giddy drunk subsiding into the drowsy.

Ander rolled his eyes and grabbed at his arms, while Polo took the legs to position him vertically, laying his head to rest on a pillow. _Friendship duties completed, now I can pass out myself._

Ander made his way to the door but stopped at the sound of Guzman briefly rousing himself.

“No don’t leave.” An almost pathetic little protest, Guzman grabbing at Polo who was the only one within reach. “Stay here with me for a while. Like we used to. Remember?”

It was true. There had been a time when they had all slept over each other’s houses. Well “slept.” _More like we spent the entire night playing video games until we all passed out._ But then Polo hitched his star to Carla’s and Guzman fell into things with Lu. _Discovering girls really puts a damper on the whole bros vibe._

Polo looked Ander’s way with a hesitant smile, clearly not opposed to the idea, if anything looking for permission to be supportive.

Ander sighed internally. He glanced at Guzman, who was passed out starfish style now. _Let’s start with the practicalities. _“Will we even all fit in the bed?”

Polo shrugged as if to say I-don’t-see-why-not. And then he started undressing, tossing his jacket aside.

Ander took off his own, the gears grinding away all the while. The energy in the room was off and not just because Guzman was for all intents and purposes dead to the world till morning. “This is fucking weird.”

“Why?” Polo cocked his head slightly, his voice alight with sincerity as if Ander was being completely unreasonable. As if he couldn’t feel it. _Is it all in my head? _“It’s not like we’ve never slept together.”

Ander had to concede on that point. But this was something different. “I know. But we were kids. I wasn’t out of the closet and you weren’t bi.” _Sexuality wasn’t even something to consider, the times were that innocent. _This wasn’t to imply that he had implicit sexual tension with every guy he encountered. _Although I could, I’m a catch. _Something was off about how eager Polo seemed.

“Bi?” Polo grinned as he lifted his shirt over his head. “Is that what I am now?” Down to his underwear, Polo vaulted over Guzman, landing in the middle of the bed. “I guess you’re right.”

Given his own years past angst on the matter, Ander was thrown by how nonchalant Polo seemed. Ander could almost believe he hadn’t seriously considered a label until this very moment. _How… liberated. _

Ander shed his shirt and was working on his pants when Polo asked, “Were you ever hot for Guzman?”

“What?” Ander frowned, unsure where this conservation was going, knowing only that it was veering into dangerous territory, even with there being no chance Guzman would hear or remember a word. Besides Ander had never seriously considered Guzman’s attractiveness one way or the other, and he wasn’t about to start now. They were basically brothers. “Were you?”

“Me?” It was Polo’s turn to be on the backfoot, as he shifted uncomfortably. _Good. _His surprise at being asked when he had broached the subject rang false. “Never. Yuck.”

Frankly so did his denials, which had the same charged edge that had pervaded the room since Guzman had passed out. 

Clearly looking to seize back the initiative, Polo asked, “And what about me?”

Ander scoffed, but felt a rush of unexpected vulnerability now that he was down to just his underwear.

“Answer honestly. Ander, were you hot for me?” Ander didn’t dignify that question with a response. _Someone’s needing validation since Carla left him. _Which would be fine so long as Ander didn’t have to sell himself out in the process. “A little bit for sure. Come on, check out this hot bod.”

“You wish.” A disarming enough remark, the expected beat, but Ander was getting the sense that Polo genuinely wanted that. _Or my brain is scrambled after what went down with Omar. _

_ I need some sleep. _“Scoot.” Ander needed to claim his third of the bed, which was quite the snug fit with three grown boys in it. Still he could make it work. If only for a night.

“I’ve been sleeping alone for some time.” _Oh we’re still talking. _Then their actual meaning hit. _That is the normal state of affairs. Like I’m supposed to believe you spent every night with Carla. _

In the corner of his eye, Ander could see Polo shift to his side to face Ander “The warmth is appreciated.” A single hand made landfall on Ander’s chest, an outstretched finger brushing against his neck as if to feel his pulse.

“Easy with the touching.” Ander would have rebuffed it more aggressively, but there was no where to go besides out of the bed. And while unwelcome, going nuclear seemed a bit of an overreaction. It was Polo for fuck’s sake.

“Why? Are you nervous?” _Well you’re providing plenty of fodder for that. _“Or maybe horny?” _So that’s his angle._ At least it was out in the open. “Because I’m getting hard as hell”

“You’re fucking kidding me.” Ander said it aloud not to Polo or anyone in particular, but to the universe. For the ridiculous series of decisions and choices that all led to this singular moment.

Polo was serious. “Look.” He stretched the elastic waistband, putting on quite the show. 

Once he saw the curtains were drawn, Ander averted his gaze. “Cover yourself you bastard.” But the damage had been done, one can’t just unsee a friend’s dick.

“Speak for yourself.” Polo’s gaze indicated to Ander’s own bulging package. Ander moved his hands downward for some modesty. _Someone has to here._

“Well I’m not made of stone.” All the sensory stimulus was overwhelming. Polo was warm and right there. 

“Wanna jerk off?”

Ander chuckled. It was absurd. Just like everything else as if the whole night was working according to the logic of a dream. “With Guzman here?” Guzman had started to snore as if to remind them of his presence.

Polo didn’t hesitate, hand starting to work away, his breathing starting to turn irregular.

“You’re crazy.” Ander shook his head but knew that he was going to join. He had to blow off some steam. He was riding on instinct, the less he thought about it, the better idea it would seem. “We are crazy.”

They looked at each other. Only a thin barrier of air between them. Polo went in for a cheeky one-off kiss. Ander drew him in to continue. Ander was all in at this point, they wouldn’t be doing things halfway, at least until he came.

Polo broke apart for air. “We can keep going. On one condition. Tomorrow, we forget all about it.” _That was a given. _Ander doubted this would end up on some highlight’s reel version of his life.

He nodded in agreement. “We’re just friends jerking off.”

***

It was the morning after. Ander felt genuinely dirty, like he been sleeping in a pig sty instead of on clean(ish) linens. Polo had spent an indeterminate amount of the night spooning on him. Once free of that clingy grip, Ander got his bearings.

He couldn’t just slip out to clear his head. Guzman was awake now, hungover and subdued but cognizant, and his mother had promised the three of them a ride to school.

Ander’s phone buzzed. Omar’s name flashed on the screen. A nauseating wave of guilt washed over him. _I cheated. I just cheated. And for what. _Ander stared at the phone in horror and didn’t answer. How could he?


	11. Advantage Ander

Champagne bottles popped and fizzed. Speakers blared, a pulsating beat resonating down to his bones. Across the dance floor, bodies grinded in vibrant, vivacious crimson. White teeth flashing cheery smiles lined in scarlet caught the (red) light. And Ander was completely and utterly miserable.

Unfortunately, he was very much not alone or he could have put an end to this farce and gone home. Maybe beat out his feelings. Not that he was especially in the mood for that either. 

Lu had taken it upon herself to play hostess, giggling and gossiping in the corner with Carla and Cayetana. They were doing a fine job of entertaining themselves because the boys were useless.

Polo had pre-gamed. Hard. And seemed to have no intention of slowing down. The scent of alcohol clung to him like cologne. He was making a nuisance of himself, buzzing around Ander with his cheeks flush like a cherub in a Renaissance painting.

Guzman was about the only one who looked to be of a mind with him. But that was par for the course. Since Marina. The only novelty was that the latest trigger wasn’t Samuel or his brother, but Polo and Ander himself. 

All because he picked up on the awkwardness between the two of them since the other night. It could have blown up more spectacularly of course given that they had hooked up in his (occupied) bed. But mostly Guzman sulked after scolding them for not finding other men to jerk off with. _Because it’s that easy. _

All of this was tangential to why Ander was in a mood. He knew the lot of them would be fine. There hadn’t ever been a fight their collective friendship couldn’t bounce back from yet. _Although wouldn’t exactly advocate to kiss and make-up as a solution in this particular case. _

Per usual Omar was the cause of his woes. _And the only solution._

But given how their latest fight had gone, that wasn’t exactly likely. _If I can’t get him to a club during the good times, no chance in hell he’d come here now. _

Ander was sure it had been a break-up. Or as close to a break-up one can get when he wasn’t even sure they had been together in the first place. He supposed the real test was how much it hurt. _It’s a break-up._

_ “Go hookup with whoever you want.”_

He was in the right place for that. If he were still on a Grindr, he was sure there’d be a host of options in a shockingly short radius. His eyes idly glided across the dance floor, more out of boredom than anything resembling interest. No one stood out. _They’re not Omar. _

_ “Kiss whoever you want.”_

Ander wasn’t tempted in the least. He was more likely to kiss with a fist than his lips tonight. All these thoughts on kissing reminded him that the last person he had kissed was Polo, who was currently busying himself posting on his story with Ander as reluctant prop. _I think I need a drink. Wash out my mouth. _

It didn’t quite do that trick or drown out Omar’s voice reverberating inside his head.

_ “Fuck whoever you want.”_

It was kind of perverse that Omar clearly thought he was setting Ander free from some impossible burden. That being alone was a better fate than being tied to a sinking ship. _If you’re already drowning, it makes no difference to submerge below the waves._

_“I only want you to be happy.”_

Ander was starting to think he wasn’t meant to be happy. Money wasn’t an issue. He had at least one accepting parent. _Frankly the only one that matters._ The biggest struggle in life had been to tell his father that he wanted to stop playing tennis for fuck’s sake. 

But still it wasn’t enough. He needed somebody else and his heart had already settled on its first and only choice. Life without Omar simply couldn’t be happy.

_“No future.”_

Well neither of them had much of a future apart, so Ander didn’t see why they shouldn’t try it together. Sure the status quo was frustrating for the both of them. _Never enough. _But even if they had all the time in the world, Ander wasn’t sure they’d be able to get enough of each other.

And Ander had no intention of playing out all the wistful what ifs. He’d go for broke, given another chance to plead his case. He’d make one if the timing didn’t present himself. _The course of true love never did run smooth._

The players shifted but the game still played on.

Polo was wedded to the bar. While Ander didn’t think more alcohol would make him any more tolerable tonight, he was glad to have him out of his hair for a moment. _Given how I blew up at him in the locker-room you’d think he’d be giving me more space. _

Guzman went off somewhere with his new partner in crime Valerio. Ander remembered all those heated arguments about his own drug use and resisted the urge to laugh bitterly. Let Guzman go off to nurse a burgeoning coke habit with Mr. Fiesta. After Guzman pulled off that stunt ditching Marina’s service the other day, Ander was done babysitting. 

Cayetana was droning on and on. Ander couldn’t retain the words, just the general sense of an insecure humble-brag. _Nouveau riche? _She broke off into a yelp. Ander glanced over to see that she spilled some wine on herself and was having mini-meltdown. _And that’s my cue to leave. _

He had made the necessary appearance, clocked in his hours, and now he wanted out. Lu acknowledged his farewell in passing but otherwise the girls were absorbed in Cayetana’s freak out. _They’re welcome to it. _

Ander made his way downstairs, where the bouncer was hooking back up the velvet rope that separated the VIP section from the great mass of the club below. He stopped in his tracks when he saw a familiar face, looking incredibly lost but determined. 

Ander leaned in, cupping his hand over the bouncer’s ear so no words would be lost in the vortex of sound that filled the club. “Let him in. He’s with me.” _I hope._

The bouncer released the rope, but Omar shook his head, just standing there. Ander paused at the threshold, confused. _He came all this way to tell me no again. That’s just cruel. _

But then Omar held out his hand, and Ander eagerly grasped it. That simple bit of contact was just as electrifying as the first time. Ander felt himself waking up, alert and excited for the first time all night.

Omar led him into the center of the dance floor, carving a path through the crowd. Omar released him and they faced off, each studying the other. Half in an attempt to read the other, but also to drink in their presence. _A sight for sore eyes._

Ander leaned in, cupping the back of Omar’s neck, lips a whisper length away. The only way to speak over the blaring music. Omar tensed up, either in anticipation of Ander’s words or the kiss that didn’t come.

“What are you doing here?” _I thought the store needed tending to. _Not that Ander wasn’t over the moon to see him. It was just unexpected given where they had left things. Ander released him, staring into those wide dark eyes, looking for an answer.

Omar returned the gesture. “I’ve had enough of the store. My father. Those stupid melons and cushions. All of it. I’m done.” Ander could hear the smile on his lips.

“Okay. No more cushions. There’s a gift receipt.” It had been a daft gift anyway. A way to assuage some of the lingering guilt over his hook up with Polo. Stupidly practically without a hint of romance or intrigue as well as a reminder that Omar was chained to a stool behind a register.

“No, you idiot.” Omar cupped Ander’s face. Ander had no choice but to stare at Omar’s face, full of feeling. Not that he would be looking anywhere else given the chance. “I’m saying that our relationship isn’t complicated. We know how we feel about each other.”

“The difficult part has been spending all day at that fucking store, pretending to be someone else. Closing up to come here and kiss you in front of a club full of people is the easiest thing I’ve done in my life.”

Ander could feel himself getting misty-eyed as a stupid grin was plastered to his face.

Ander played with the collar of Omar’s unbuttoned dress shirt. “You do know there technically hasn’t been any kissing yet.”

He shed it, and Ander followed suit with his own jacket, leaving them both with bare arms in tank tops. They tossed them aside with careless abandon.

Omar leaned in, forehead pressed against Ander’s own. “Well let me fix that.”

They made out in the middle of the bopping crowd, pressed together by the sheer mass of people. Ander couldn’t imagine leaving. Ever. Let the bouncers kick them to the curb at closing. They’d probably keep at it outside, riding out the contact high till sunrise. Till queendom come.


	12. Break Point

Everything should be breaking Ander’s way. _How many high schoolers have live-in boyfriends?_ After months of starving, just barely surviving on minute scraps, Ander finally had Omar at his fingertips, and he had no intention of letting go anytime soon.

Of course Ander regretted that Omar’s parents had made it a necessity. But he was reaping the benefits, and if Omar didn’t like laying in Ander’s bed, he hadn’t let on yet. If anything he seemed to resent that Ander was pulling away. _As if I don’t have my reasons. _

The first sign of trouble had been Polo’s confession. Ander knew the weight of a secret. The way it could eat away at your peace of mind without anyone on the outside seeing the cost. So he hadn’t hesitated to help share the load of his oldest friend’s burden when given the chance. _“You can tell me anything. I won’t judge you,” I said like a complete and utter ass. _

Because of course there were real limits to that. People rarely meant absolutely anything. There were firm moral lines carved into the sand. They always (naively) assumed whatever it was would fit in with their image of that person.

Ander hadn’t thought he had any of those illusions. He had expected something bad of course. But an ordinary kind of bad. The kind of bad teenagers inevitably get up to even though they know they probably shouldn’t. But Marina’s murder, even if it had been in some indescribable, intense ‘fit of rage’ had been beyond his imagining.

And now it was Ander’s secret too. He didn’t have the courage to betray Polo and try going to the police (with what evidence?) or at the very least try to tell Guzman, to provide some closure to that unending wound. He couldn’t even threaten Polo convincingly enough to force a confession. _It’s like he turned the release valve enough to save himself at the cost of burning me with the blowback, and now he’s clamped shut again. _

The only price he had been able to extract for his complicit silence was getting the bail money to free Samuel’s now definitely innocent brother from jail. As if that small mercy was enough atonement for letting the actual murderer walk free. And even that backfired with Guzman on a war path that would only end when someone was dead.

And even if he could, the cost would be too high. Polo would off himself, on purpose or by taking enough drugs that intention would have nothing to do with it. The pool incident had convinced Ander of that. He was Polo’s keeper now. His friend had made sure of that.

Ander couldn’t even confide in Omar. He had his own shit going on at the moment and Ander didn’t want to pile on. And where to even start? _Yeah you know one of my childhood best friend’s confessed to me that he was a murderer… what should I do? _Ander clicked his tongue in frustration.

And that was ignoring that well, Omar was different. His wardrobe transformed overnight. It was bright and loud. Garish patterns replacing black and gray. Anything that could possibly be construed as neutral was tossed to the wayside. Hoodies had apparently gone out of style.

He was suddenly fast friends with Lu of all people. Ander wasn’t even sure if _he_ got along with Lu and he had known her for years and years. The pair of them literally had their own language. Ander’s Arabic was as non-existent as his peace of mind.

And now everything was coming to a head at Rebeca’s fucking Halloween party. _Maybe Polo should murder me… would certainly put me out of my misery. _

His boyfriend was in drag, going as a bad impression of a man in a dress from some old movie that Ander didn’t know. Frankly the more he learned about it, the more he didn’t care to know. It sounded like some feverish freakish nightmare.

The curly wig just looked wrong atop that head. The garish makeup jarred, painted lines disguising the face Ander thought he knew so well. And never before did Ander think he’d have to contend with lipstick stains after realizing he was gay. The heel clicks drilled into his brain even under the resounding bass and chatter. Ander couldn’t help but cringe at each unsteady tap and that was before booze was involved. _I’ll need a hefty drink to start. _

And despite his deeply held reservations, Ander somehow had gotten himself roped into a couple’s costume with that. These gold shorts, if they could be called that, made the track team’s kit look like the height of modesty. They were hidden away under the jacket and track pants right now, where they belonged if he had to be wearing them at all. But he knew it was only a matter of time before he had to unveil them to the entire school.

The whole thing was humiliating.

Sparkly, fingerless gloved hands pressed against his chest. Omar held a gummy worm between his teeth, which looked extra white against his dark-lined lips. He was clearly hoping for a Lady and the Tramp scenario. _If he’s the lady, guess that makes me the tramp. _

Ander brushed him aside, letting a glower darken his own face. If at all upset by the lack of interest, Omar didn’t let on. “Come on, you’re not in costume.” Omar played with the jacket’s collar. “Not really.”

Ander sighed deeply. He knew what he had signed up for the moment he agreed to the stupid costume. Omar seemed properly happy for the first time in the forever. And Ander had been the one to suggest the party in the first place to smooth out the mounting tension now that they were living together. He’d grit his teeth and see it through.

He felt their eyes on him. The party goers. Obviously not all of them, plenty of people were making out, nursing drinks, dancing, or otherwise occupying their own little worlds, but enough to make all his exposed skin crawl.

And now for the really tough part: the mortifying prospect of letting people he actually knew well and cared about see it. _Kill me now. _But that would be too kind.

Omar rushed over to Rebeca, his gait still awkward and unnatural in those heels, like a newborn horse. Ander trailed behind, desperately wishing he was invisible. But the gold booty shorts had all the subtlety of well… Omar in a dress.

Rebeca hardly looked herself having dumped her usual tracksuit get up for Disney princess ballgown. Her phone not so subtlety peeked out from her cleavage. _Convenient I’m sure but kinda ruins the image. _

Polo had a stupid grin plastered to his face that looked extra macabre given the faux head wound of his costume. Ander found that detail morbidly ironic, given that’s exactly how Polo had killed Marina. _I’d laugh but I’d have to cry. _

Taking in Ander’s conspicuous lack of an outfit, Polo asked, “How did you let yourself end up like this?” _I’ve been wondering exactly the same thing. Every damn second. _

“He looks so handsome,” Omar sighed like a lovesick idiot. Once Ander would’ve melted to hear those words, now they just left him irritated.

Now extricating from her loving embrace with Omar, Rebeca sniggered. “Are you sure you’re totally gay?”

He was sorely tempted to flip her off in a totally joking but not actually way, but he resisted. The dig wasn’t worth responding to. _Yet. _

Omar suggested, “Let’s take a photo.” _And let there be tangible proof besides the image burned into people’s retinas… never._

He had to put to his foot down. “Stop fucking around with me.” It sounded much less intimidating when said aloud than in his head. _As if anyone could be intimidating in this get up._

Rebeca extricated her phone from her bodice and motioned for the two of them to gather round. 

“Come on, smile,” Rebeca ordered through her own.

Because he wanted this whole thing done as quickly as humanly possible, Ander put on his best fake smile, thinned lipped and joyless. He remembered reading somewhere that there were certain face muscles used in smiling that only moved for the genuine article. They were controlled unconsciously, so there was no forcing it. He could see the difference now, on Rebeca’s phone screen as she spammed photos. 

As the pair of them bobbed in time to the beat, he backed off, extricating himself from the beauty and the beast. Ander didn’t know whether he or Rebeca made the odder pair with Omar right now. It said nothing good.

“Now which drag queen are you meant to be?” asked Samuel. _Great so the parade continues. _

Omar laughed at his friend’s mistake. “No, it’s from Rocky Horror Picture Show.”

“Too much horror if you ask me.” _Shouldn’t have said that. _Ander idly noticed the drink in his hand was nearly empty. _I need another. _

“Well, I like it.” _You don’t have to live with it. _And on that note, Samuel left, probably chasing after Rebeca or maybe Carla. It was tough to keep up with who was interested in who these days.

Ander settled down with his next drink when he noticed yet another of his friends approach them through the throng. _Lovely. _Carla was everything Omar was not in this moment, effortlessly sexy in a way even he had to concede and attracting all the right kinds of attention.

Carla snorted, a dissonant note that clashed with her otherwise regal bearings. “Shit this is even better than I heard.” She was barely suppressing her glee in mocking them.

“Do you know what we’re dressed as? Isn’t it cool?” Earnest, far too earnest. _Learn to read the room. How the hell did you survive so long in the closet?_

Carla’s mouth closed into a thin line, probably irritated that Omar was too innocent to dig her talons in, but settled into a superior smirk. “No I don’t. And no, it definitely isn’t.”

With that final shot across the bow, she stalked off. Ander watched her go as Omar muttered to himself, mocking her like he was still in diapers instead of that damned dress.

His latest drink was done. He placed the glass down and rose to his feet, announcing to slurred and surly speech, “I’m putting my coat back on.”

“What? Ander!” Omar called after him, the obvious hurt rising above the roar of the party. Ander didn’t bother to look back.

Armored again, he pressed his way through the crowd. He didn’t have the energy to do damage control with Omar right now, to see the disappointing fallout to a complete disaster of a night.

He needed to clear his head and get a breath of fresh air. Maybe a smoke to calm his nerves, lest he blow up in a way he couldn’t walk back from.

Unsurprisingly Guzman was sitting on a hay bale, claiming it for a seat in front of an outdoor heater. The flames reflected in his eyes.

Ander lit a cigarette and began leaning on a neighboring one. They faced past each other. Ander couldn’t stand to look at him, not properly, not in his current condition, and especially not with what he knew. And as for Guzman… he always had his reasons. 

“So, everything okay?” Ander didn’t know what he was asking about specifically. Guzman just seemed to be in one of his moods_. Per usual._ Guzman was like a volcano these days with anything and everything a potential trigger that could set him off. Marina, Lu, those brothers.

“At least I’m not dressed like a stripper.” _Low blow. _Out of the corner of his eye, Ander could see a smile break out on Guzman’s face. _At least this ordeal bought me that. _

Still Ander couldn’t dispute the truth of those words. In fact, he scoffed at the fundamental absurdity of his position. “It was Omar’s idea,” he explained, unused to the strange position of justifying himself to his friend after years of just being. “Suddenly he went camp and turned into some drag queen.” He looked mournfully at the cigarette and sighed, “What an eyesore.”

***

They were home. Ander had linked up with Omar again as the party died. The whole ride home, Omar had made a point to chatter away about what a good time he had at the party, how lovely Rebeca and Lu were, and how Valerio was going to find him a gig at the club. He had filled the air to bursting with sound, so they wouldn’t be left with just Ander’s sullen silence.

Now cocooned within their shared room, Omar began to shed his accoutrements, looking more and more like recognizably like himself in Ander’s eyes. It was a relief. Ander had survived this trial, and now they could start returning things to normal.

Omar was playing with his released hair now that the wig lay be the wayside. Glancing back from the vanity, he said, “Honey, you look like one of the dead. And here I thought Dr. Frank-N-Furter was supposed to bring you to life.” _If that’s the last Rocky Horror joke I hear, it will be too soon. _

“Don’t call me that.” _The pet name was too sweet by far._

“What? Dead?” He let loose out a weak laugh that died as soon as it sounded. “Well, you could stop doing that, couldn’t you?”

“Doing what exactly?” Ander didn’t know what Omar had to complain about. Sure, he hadn’t been the most gracious costume partner in crime tonight, but he had played along for longer than was reasonable. _The things I do for love. _

“You know exactly what. Don’t play dumb.” _I’m not smart enough to play dumb. _“The looks. The little remarks. I’m not a fool.” _Could’ve fooled me. _

It took all his willpower for Ander not to snort. Instead he retorted icily, “Well because of the way you’ve been acting all night, it’s a bit difficult to tell.”

“Acting?” Omar’s eyes widened; his make-up only half wiped off as he turned his full attention to the matter at hand. “I’m not acting. This isn’t just some costume that I’ll be ditching after tonight. Ander this is all part of me.”

Sensing he had struck too close to a nerve, Ander opted for retreat. “Forget it.” _I’m too drunk for this conversation. And we shouldn’t be having it at the end of a long night. _

Whisper soft Omar said, “Well I don’t want to.” And stronger, with more confidence, he added, “And I won’t let you. Come on, say what’s on your mind. It’s not like you’ve been holding back all night. What is wrong with you?” His voice nearly cracked at that final question, and he was clearly holding back tears now.

“This,” Ander indicated at the make-up, the hair, the dress. “Isn’t the Omar I fell for. Don’t you get that? I like the other one.” The memories all flooded Ander’s mind. The sight of his wiry frame sucking in a deep breath before taking the plunge. The sounds of his moans of pleasure. The smell of the sweat that clung to them in the aftermath.

“Well then, I don’t know why you’re wasting your time with this guy.” Omar stood up, cursing as he broke one of his heels in his haste. He was working at the shoes, and once he got them off, tossed them aside. Omar began gathering his scattered possessions from around the room into a duffel bag. 

“Come on. Don’t leave. Where will you go?” _I can’t let you sleep on the street. _

“I don’t know, but I’m clearly not welcome here anymore.” Ander could here Omar’s resolve harden as he said each word.

“Look I’ll sleep on the couch tonight. The bed’s all yours.” _What once was ours, if only for a moment. _“You’re still my guest after all.” _As for the rest, that’s over now isn’t it. _“Be my guest.”

Downstairs, laying his head on the armrest, Ander felt numb. _What did I just do?_


	13. Match

It was technically Ander’s birthday. _Eighteen. _Now that he was theoretically an adult, he had never felt further from it. So no, he wasn’t in much of mood to celebrate. _What exactly am I celebrating? _

Sure, he could drink legally now, but that had never exactly stopped him before. He could join the army or drop out of school or do any number of stupid things without his parents’ consent, at least in the strictly legal sense. _But what’s the point of all that freedom if I’m still stuck with shoveling all the same old shit as before. _

He and Omar were still in a bad way since Halloween. Omar was still living with them… for now. But they weren’t talking, not in any real way. They barely acknowledged each other’s existence if they could help it. Lots of awkward eye contact that ended as abruptly as it started. 

Omar obviously wanted nothing to with him after Ander had gone out of his way to step on the shattered remnants of his heart. And Ander couldn’t blame him.

Ander felt nothing but shame for what he had done. But an apology seemed woefully inadequate. _I basically did the equivalent of breaking up by saying yes, it is in fact you not me. _

Besides it wouldn’t solve the fundamental issue, no matter how sincere or prettily worded. He may have been unnecessarily cruel, but he had been honest about his feelings. Omar simply felt different from the person Ander had spent so much time lusting after, dreaming about, and getting to know piece by piece in the stolen moments between heart beats.

Ander suspected he wouldn’t have to worry about what to do about Omar for much longer. He was sure the moment that Omar had saved enough from that bartending gig, he would be out the door, never to return. Out of each other’s lives permanently. _Everything I said I wanted._

As if the complete nuclear meltdown of his relationship with his live-in boyfriend wasn’t enough, there had also been that awful fight with Polo the same night. Ander was pretty sure he had seen some of that hidden rage that could turn so murderous. Which only made it stranger when Polo had led the celebratory charge for Ander’s birthday at school. _I suppose he thinks he’s won… and given how I still haven’t told Guzman or anyone who could do anything about it, I guess he has._

Guzman and Polo had down their best to try to get him in the mood to celebrate properly. They had all the right intentions. _Well I’m sure at least Guzman did. _But there was no way he had the energy to fake a fun night out. As if he could have pretended all was well between the three of them, when he knew that damned secret that would tear them asunder forever.

All he wanted was to drink in peace and quiet, the sweet release of an empty mind too fuzzy to think. But of course he had to run into an offended Guzman. _Is there anyone left in my life I haven’t alienated one way or another?_

Not that the night had been going well to begin with. It had been torture being mopey and drunk with Omar behind the bar- _I chose that club, maybe I’m a masochist_\- a reminder of how thoroughly he had fucked up literally everything. _No friends, no relationship, no future._

And to wrap up all this shit in a neat little bow, for the first time since the divorce proceedings had kicked off, his family was all together. It was going about as well as to be expected. _And that’s only because my expectations were rock bottom to begin with. _

He was literally stuck between the pair of them at the moment. They were arguing. _Per usual. _Ander wasn’t even sure what the fight was ostensibly about anymore, only that he was a pawn being used to relitigate all their old battles.

The start of it was easy enough to pin down: Ander showing insufficient gratitude for a useless gift from his out of touch father. _That and my father’s continued neuroses and angsty about my stillborn tennis career and me being a “homosexual.” _

Rather than let him fight his own battles, his mother had stepped in, and now he was just sitting on the sidelines as they went at it like alley cats. _Why do they insist on acting like I’m blind, deaf, and mute?_

Doing his best to act just like that was Omar. He was shunted off to one corner, trying to be as invisible as possible as he twiddled away on his phone, messaging god knows who. He looked so good, it physically hurt to so much as glance in his direction. _I now get that cliche about looking at someone you love like looking at the sun. It’s supposed to be sweaty and uncomfortable._

“I don’t know who he is anymore!” His father’s voice snapped Ander back into the torturous moment. _Well you never really knew me in the first place. _“He used to like things and now…”

Ander had a horrifying realization. A moment of understanding as to the why of how he fucked up with Omar, not just the reality and emotional fallout of the what. _This is exactly how I talked to Omar that night. _

“What does that matter?” Omar stood up now, finding the voice that had evidently curled up and died in Ander’s throat over the course of the past few minutes.

His mother tried to defuse the situation, using her good cop principal voice- _sweet enough sounding but oh so dismissive_\- “Omar, darling…”

“No.” Omar stood his ground. He even looked taller or maybe he was just not hunched over, trying to occupy as little space as possible. And to Ander’s surprise, his mother actually backed off, standing down for once in her life.

Pressing on, Omar repeated, “What does it matter if he doesn’t like tennis or girls? He’s still Ander.”

His father’s nostrils flared, likely upset to be challenged by the obvious interloper. _Ironically enough he’s more welcome here than you. _“You only just met him. What could you possibly know?”

“I know that they say that I’ve changed, too, but I haven’t. I’ve always been this way.”

Ander couldn’t look at any of them anymore. He kept his eyes trained to the hardwood floor, following each groove. However, his steadily reddening ears were pricked up, catching each and every word.

“I had to pretend to be something I’m not, so as to avoid disappointing the people I cared about.” _That’s just called living._ “But I’m tired of it.” _Aren’t we all. _“And anyone who doesn’t like it…”

Out of the corner of his eye Ander saw Omar glance his way. And Ander felt the full weight of it, pressing down on his chest, reeling as if he had taken a sucker punch to the gut.

“Anyone who doesn’t like it will be out my life.” Ander had known this already on some level of course, he wasn’t stupid. But to hear it said aloud with such clarity of purpose sent shivers down his spine.

“Ander is also tired of pretending. If you don’t learn to love him as he is, you will lose him forever.” _You’re assuming that he hasn’t already lost me. _“Now I don’t know what it’s like to lose a child, but I swear to you losing a father is a fucking bitch.” 

Having dropped that grenade, Omar didn’t wait to see the full fallout, leaving the room in a huff. Ander mournfully watched him go, realizing he had the unenviable task of talking down his shell-shocked parents from the edge. _I like it quite a bit more when I’m the bomb thrower. _No need to stick around and clean up in the aftermath.

Ander needn’t have worried. His parents didn’t want to linger on the incident anymore than he wanted to have that conversation with them, playing defense attorney for… whatever he and Omar were now. His father hastily excused himself. Not a word uttered in the way of an apology but also no long string of piss poor excuses for being a dick. _Progress(?)_

His mother craved physical proximity and Ander wasn’t in much of state to resist, so the pair of them sat awhile on the couch. Drained by the drama, neither had much to say. This suited Ander just fine. He had time to think it all over. The operative it of course being the general state of his relationship with Omar, if such a word could be used to describe what was currently going on (or not) between them.

By the time he finally went upstairs to find Omar, he had this whole little speech plotted out in his head. All these things about how he had been so impossibly wrong and blind and stupid. How he had projected all his own issues onto him. _Because I don’t really know who I am… without tennis, without the carefully curated lies of omission, without friends I can trust implicitly and who can trust me in turn. _

He’d say how much he loved Omar for the entirety of who he is and wouldn’t take what they had for granted a moment longer. And to start his penance, he’d list all the ways he’d be a better person and a better boyfriend.

Of course that all went out the window when he saw Omar again, in the flesh. Because they were words. And Ander had proved time and time again his word was worthless by lying through his teeth about well everything. Reflexive lies of omission because that’s easier than having an honest conversation. _I learned from the best. _And frankly Ander wouldn’t blame Omar for seeing them for what they were.

Omar was staring out the window, leaning on a hand pressed against a rafter. It looked like the beginning of a music video, some moody ballad about broken hearts and the quiet after. He seemed so pensive that Ander was reluctant to interrupt. But he soldiered on, noticing as he made his approach the storm roiling on beneath the calm. Omar’s hand was trembling, from fear or anger or some heady cocktail of the two was hard to say.

He pressed his face against Omar’s back, taking in the oh so familiar scent of him. Bright bubbly citrus and lemongrass masking sweat.

Omar didn’t protest. But on the other hand, he didn’t say anything at all, which was unnerving. _Never trust a hug, it’s just a way to hide your face. _

Ander pushed on, wrapping his arms around Omar, as if he could return that miraculous favor from earlier, protecting him from a cruel, cruel world.

Omar’s raised his hand to reach for Ander’s own, pressing it down against his chest as if he could engulf it in his ribcage, joining their hearts through some new artery.

He was still for a moment, enjoying the proximity and warmth of Omar’s body. He didn’t know how to proceed. Words wouldn’t solve this problem. Hell, a distinct lack of them had been at the start of it. _Catch-22. _All he could dare summon up from that deep and confusing well of mishmashed emotions was a simple, inadequate “Thank you.”

That small expression of gratitude felt more right than saying sorry. More honest.

Omar kissed Ander’s fingers. The touch of his lips was gentle, radiating the same energy as a wistful whisper trying to ride a summer breeze. But it was still more than enough to send the hairs on Ander’s arms rising.

That small gesture clarified everything in the same way it must feel when someone first puts on glasses. The whole world becoming high def. Suddenly Ander remembered there were a million other ways to communicate beyond words. And it had been far too long since they had indulged in one in particular.

Omar turned round to face him, and Ander had to smile at that glorious sight. _How did I possibly stop smiling in the first place? _

There was a moment of hesitation, neither of them daring to breathe. A game of chicken, just like their first encounter all those months ago. _Lifetimes ago. _Ander couldn’t say who took the plunge first, but he didn’t care. Everything before that moment was simply irrelevant.

That first forceful kiss awakened something. Ander had been ravenous for so long that he had simply become numb to it. Just another feeling to bottle and put aside as his life careened off the rails. Now he was anything and everything but numb. 

Once they got going, they couldn’t shed clothes fast enough. The task was admittedly complicated by not wanting to break contact as there was only so much maneuvering that could be done. Omar’s lips took priority and Ander’s hands were much more interesting in exploring Omar’s body than removing articles of clothing… at least his own.

They tossed aside their jackets without a second thought. Omar grasped at Ander’s disheveled tie, dragging him down as Omar fell back into the love-seat. Ander made quick work of Omar’s shirt. He felt up his now bare chest rise and fall in an ever-quickening rhythm.

Ander’s own pants were a bit more of a struggle. Omar had no problem undoing them and taking them down, but the actual removal involved Ander sitting back while Omar heaved and wrestled with them. _If someone has invented a sexy way to remove pants I need to know or maybe I should just invest in less tight clothing… _although Ander had the feeling Omar wouldn’t appreciate that solution.

Ander’s lips started working their way downward, biting at Omar’s lower’s lip as a parting shot. Then on to a jawline so sharp that Ander always joked he’d cut his caressing fingers or lips on it. He wound his way down Omar’s neck, a winding trail of kisses that skipped along like a stone on water. Based on Omar’s breathy reactions, below the surface was anything but calm.

Sensing movement, Ander surfaced to see that Omar held up a condom. Ander throbbed and ached at the prospect. But he had other ideas. Thinking up that long speech that didn’t happen hadn’t been the only reason it had taken him so long to go up and see Omar. _Always be prepared._

Taking the condom in hand, he passed it back, placing it in Omar’s mouth. _It’s all yours._

Everything was new. And Ander felt oh so vulnerable laying on his back staring up as Omar slipped his lithe frame between his legs, taking the plunge. And it hurt. Oh god it hurt, until it began to hurt so good like a bracing chill that sharpened all his senses. Except Ander was anything but chill. Hot and bothered, covered in sweat as he breathed heavily in between moans of pleasure.

Afterwards Ander lay horizontally with a dozing Omar pressed against his back, spooning him, one arm wrapped round Ander like he was some giant stuffed animal. He replayed it all in his head, savoring the feelings and the feel of it._ Is there a problem on this Earth that can’t be solved by getting fucked?_

Ander wasn’t so delusional as to think all their problems were gone now. He still had his secrets, and Omar probably had his own. _We’re all the heroes in our own story. _But they were Ander and Omar again.

And ever since that first encounter, they had always been like magnets that couldn’t decide their charge, attracted then repulsed and back again. But if they could overcome everything that had been thrown their way by an uncaring world and their inner demons, well nothing was gonna stop them now.

Ander smiled to himself, secure in the knowledge that he had won something special, now he only had to treasure it. He glanced over his shoulder at Omar, seeing exactly how easy that would be.


End file.
